


Juvenile

by Semi_problematic



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Anxiety, Childhood Trauma, Crushes, M/M, Pining, Psychological Trauma, Unrequited Crush, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-27
Updated: 2019-10-27
Packaged: 2021-01-04 21:20:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21204272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Semi_problematic/pseuds/Semi_problematic
Summary: Stan doesn’t want Bill to forget him.





	Juvenile

**Author's Note:**

> Idk what this is there is no plot my friend asked for stenbrough like two weeks ago and this mess of words came out

"Stan." 

"Stanley." 

"Stan, hey!" 

"Stan the man!" 

"Stan?" 

Fingers blocked his view of the television. Blue and red flashes of light danced around them as Stan came to. He swallowed and looked back at the screen once the fingers were out of his way. 

"You were fucking knocked, dude." Richie pointed out. "You wanna sleep? We can set up our sleeping bags and stuff now. Get comfortable." 

Beverly nudged his knee. He felt disconnected. "C'mon. Don't sleep yet. We still got, like, eight more hours to go." 

He offered a small smile and nodded to let them know that he was there, that he was listening. 

"We can sleep and continue it in the morning." Ben said, looking at Stan with soft eyes. The light made his features softer. 

"But then it won't be Halloween anymore!" Richie all but shouted. Bill hushed him. "This is the best holiday! We need to celebrate." 

"Yeah, well, maybe if we went around the block at 5 instead of 7 we wouldn't be two hours behind!" Eddie stated. "But no, we had to get candy, because candy tastes better when you ask for it than when you buy it! We didn't even need to go trick or treating. We are 17!" 

"You earn it!" Richie argued. "And you are never too old to go trick or treating." 

"Guys!" Bill hissed. "My parents are sleeping!" 

Stan blinked his eyes slowly, tearing his eyes from the screen, looking around the dark room. His eyes adjusted slowly, each person around him only appearing as a dark shadow. He shifted in his seat, closing his eyes when the couch squeaked below him. A blush crept up his neck as he turned his attention back to the movie. He didn't mean for the attention to be on him again. He wished to sink beneath the couch cushions and disappear. 

There was only one fourth left, the superhero revealing that he was the hero all along to the woman he saved. He shook his head and rubbed his eyes, digging his knuckles against his eyelids. Eight hours. This was meant to be fun but for some reason his mind kept wandering. The memories. The sewers. The darkness. The smell. The humidity. The fear. The woman. 

This didn't make sense. Pennywise happened years ago. There had been no sign of it for years. No one died. No one went missing. Beverly was moving soon, and so was Eddie, but that couldn't be the reason. They had lives outside of Derry, lives outside of that summer. He found his hand stinging where he cut. Stan rubbed his thumb across it. There was no blood. The scar was closed up. 

The pact. The promise to come back. That could be it. All of them leaving, none of them even attempting to stay. Not that they would want to. But Beverly and Eddie were leaving. College was soon as well. There were no colleges in Derry. What would they do? Leave. All of them. And then it would happen. What Stan saw. What the woman made him watch and feel and remember. Pennywise wasn't dead. It would be back. It will be back. And if they don't come back they would die. 

He sucked in a breath. 

"You've been doing that a lot lately." Mike whispered. His voice pulled Stan from his thoughts. He was grateful for a break. He was on one side of Stan, a blanket draped across his legs. Stray pieces of popcorn laid in his lap, Richie now holding the bowl in his lap between Eddie and Beverly. "Are you alright?" 

Four years. Three months. Nineteen days. Seventeen hours. It was Halloween, Richie and Stan's favorite time of year. Growing up they matched every costume they could. Except this year they did a few rounds in Bill's neighborhood before crowding into his basement and turning on a series of different movies. Each of them picked their own. Ben's was first. Now Richie's. The idea was that this movie marathon would be the best one yet with each person watching their own movie and learning about others. One final attempt to be together. To relive their childhood, or create one they didn't have. 

"We are growing up." He remembered that summer. When he asked if they would always be friends and they all seemed shocked by the question. Beverly will make new friends, Eddie as well. Beverly is going to Toledo, Ohio and Eddie in Tivoli, a small town in New York. There is no way they could keep track after college. Ben wants to be an architect and Richie wants to teach. Mike wants to move to Florida and have an apple orchard. Bill wants to be a writer and plans on going to a big creative writing school in Missouri. Stan, well, Stan wanted a simple life, but it couldn't be simple with this cloud hanging over him and the secret he kept buried. 

"Yeah, but that isn't a bad thing." Bill offered him the smile. The same smile Stan saw when he flunked his class and when he admitted that his father made him feel like he wasn't the good Jewish boy he wanted him to be. The same smile that taught Stan he was different. That he had another thing to hide. First the sadness, then this. "We will all visit each other. That's what summer is for." Bill somehow always knew what Stan was thinking. 

Stan wanted to argue, but shooting down Bill's hope felt wrong. So much for them had been ruined by reality. Richie being known as the town fag because he touched a boy a little too long. Beverly being known as the slut because she isn't like everyone else and she is an easy mark. Bill losing his brother and having to come to terms with his death. Ben admitting his abuse only to be called a fat boy for finding safety in the small bursts of happiness food gave him. Mike always being the bad guy because that's what brown skin boys were in Derry. And Eddie, the boy who was mocked for being angry when he couldn't ever speak up at home. 

"Who will we visit first?" Stan asked, playing along. It wouldn't hurt to be hopeful for a little while. Pretend things could be different. That reality didn't touch them. "Beverly or Eddie?" 

"Beverly. Eddie says he's moving to Derry 2.0." Bill replied, looking at Eddie who was sprawled out across the floor. "My parents are thinking about moving, but we don't have the money." Bill spoke soft. "Would you visit me if I left?" 

He ignored Bill's statement and focused on the question. "In a heartbeat." Stan smiled. Reality didn't touch them in this moment. Bill wasn't going to leave. "I would spend the summer with you. We would have to catch up." Being hopeful was fun. Making plans that felt bright and good. "And our winter break. I could go for a week and then you could come back for a week. We can celebrate together." 

Bill knew all about Hanukkah. Stan made a point to teach them about his religion, but Bill knew the most next to Richie. Bill and Richie would come over while they celebrated. Richie would always beg to help light the candle and Stan would have to wrestle the lighter from him. The year Bill was allowed to help light it, Richie threw a fit. But it didn't last long. He understood. 

"And thanksgiving. Maybe we can have our own one for when you visit." Bill put his hand over Stan's. “You’re part of my family.” 

Stan blushed once more. That summer taught Stan more than fear. He learned love. Spending days with Bill, sleeping in the same bed and going on bike rides. He fell in love with him. Slowly. It felt natural, not like a burning flame that he had to act on. Instead it was soft and calm. Like he woke up one day and realized he was in love with his best friend. 

Richie understood. He had loved Eddie long before that summer. And somehow, both of them were able to hide it this long. Hiding it was easier, though. Stan knew Bill didn’t love him. Not in that way. And he was content being friends. Having Bill as a friend beat not having Bill at all. 

Stan would be lying, though, if he said he didn’t crave more. When they went bird watching and Bill laid his head on his shoulder, closing his eyes and slowly dozing off, Stan wished to kiss his cheek and hold him closer. And in the winter when the glow of the candles bounced off of Bill’s cheeks, Stan wished to kiss him. When Bill always made sure to wait outside of his classes so he didn’t feel left behind and when Bill was brave the entirety of that summer Stan wanted nothing more than to shout those three words. To tell Bill he loved him would feel like getting a weight off his chest. He wouldn’t have to stumble over words and pull himself out of daydreams. Stan wouldn’t have to race to erase his doodles of them together, of Bill’s name decorated with hearts. 

“My family loves you.” Stan smiled. “You should convince your parents to stay.” He whispered. It was a juvenile thing to say. 

Bill smiled at him. Suddenly he was six years old and shyly walking towards Bill during recess. He was clutching his books in his hands all over again, walking to the smart boy who had upper level reading classes but speech therapy, too. The teacher said they would be good friends before nudging Stan in Bill’s direction. In the beginning, Bill did all the talking, his eyebrows knitting together whenever he stumbled over words and got frustrated. Then, Stan spoke. He talked about dinosaurs and birds and random facts he learned from the papers his dad read. They were both different, but together they weren’t shamed for it. 

“You don’t need to worry. I won’t be leaving for a while.” Bill wrapped an arm around him and smiled. “I promise.” 

Stan pressed against him. He wanted to argue. The timeframe wasn’t the issue, Bill leaving was. But Stan couldn’t find the words the same way he couldn’t find them when he was six. So, he pressed closer and rested his head on his shoulder. “Don’t forget about me, Bill.” 

Bill’s heartbeat was quick. Stan tried to match his breathing with Bill’s so that they had another thing in common. “I won’t, Stan. I promise.” 

And somehow, Stan knew he wasn’t lying.


End file.
